My Name is Tethras, Varric Tethras
by Hatse
Summary: <html><head></head>My name is Tethras, Varric Tethras, at your service. I am a merchant prince, a story-teller extaordinaire, a seasoned adventurer - and a great deal many more things, all of them completely and utterly awesome. This is the account of the true story of what happened in Kirkwall, told form my point of view for once. Rating is M because i like to say nugshit a lot.</html>
1. Meeting the suspects: Hawke

**Varric has been talking in my head, we've already been over that. I am uploading this story again, after my account was deleted, because a lot of people told me they loved Varric's narration and they miss this story. **

**One thing I regret imensely is that there was this whole chapter in this fic where varric answered to the FAQ that readers posted in reviews. Since the reviews are gon, I'm afraid that chapter can't be posted again, not unless I also try to remember the questions that had been asked. If any of you remember what you had asked, please PM me and let me know.**

**Other than that, here we go again. Enjoy.**

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><p>I had been watching her and that little sister of hers for days. She is one scary chick, that Marian Hawke, let me tell you, and this here dwarf doesn't scare so easily, trust me, my mother tried. And if my mother couldn't intimidate me into behaving 'like a proper dwarf', and my brother Bartrand's glares didn't faze me, one little curvy rogue shouldn't be able to.<p>

But that was one scary baby.

I had gotten my information, as always. I had my sources, I am awesome like that. Antheril, the leader of the smugglers she had worked for this past year was in awe of her; she was quick, agile as a cat with an extra pair of paws, and frightfully clever. Stubborn, vicious, a bitch, I heard it all when I asked about her. Clever, caring, honourable, I also heard those, to the point I didn't know what to think of her.

Hence the following around.

My name is Varric by the way. Varric Tethras, at your services. Dwarven, as the short legs can attest to, don't let the absence of a beard fool you. Profession? Tricky. A little bit of this, a little bit of that: part writer, part story teller extraordinaire, part merchant, part adventurer. Why stick your fingers in only one pot? Do you have just one finger?

But I digress. I was telling you the story of how I met Hawke. Easy. I had heard she was interested in taking part in my brother Bartrand's Deep Roads expedition, but that bastard –sorry, mother- had turned her down. But what my brother didn't realise with his limited business acumen, was that we needed someone. just. like. Hawke.

So I set up a little trap for her, and lured the little fly into my web. I had a rather dim-witted little cutpurse steal her purse. Then I stopped him and introduced myself to Hawke and made her my offer: gather 50 gold ones, find maps to the Deep Roads and don't be a hireling, be a partner.

It was a piece of cake really. I didn't even lose a single bolt of my beloved Bianca.

Who is Bianca? Oh, shame on you. She is the lovely crossbow on my back.

Say hello, Bianca.


	2. Meeting the suspects: Anders I

**I am sorry for not replying to your reviews, you wonderful people, who have read this before and still took the time to leave a review; many of you for the second time. I'm torn, I will not lie. On one hand each review fills me with joy as it always did...on the other hand, I feel like crying with every single one of them. They remind me of all the reviews I've lost, all the people that have lost track of me, all the stories that have been deleted. I get choked up and I can't bring myself to reply to them. I am so deeply sorry. I have never left reviews unanswered before. **

**I thank you all once again. I will be fine, soon, I hope. I'll get over this**.

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><p>I was there when Hawke met Anders. One could say it was my fault, really, but you didn't hear it from me. Nope. Admission of guilt from this here dwarf? Nah, not happening. When the nug shit starts flying, I am always the one that is still smiling and that's because I've found someone else to blame.<p>

Truth be told, I usually have someone at hand to blame even before things go wrong, just to be on the safe side. You know?

But I will admit I was the one that told her about Blondie. Anders. We needed maps to the Deep Roads and I had heard there was an ex-Grey Warden in town. I wonder...did that make him another colour of Warden? A Pink Warden perhaps?

Sorry. My mind just drifted a bit. Snort. A Pink Warden.

Anyways, where was I? Yes, Anders. We learned the location of his clinic from one of the merchants in Lowtown, Lirene, I think. We had some trouble on the way there; some Fereldans wanted to make sure not a precious little hair on that blond head of his would be put to danger, but Hawke took care of that, no worries there.

So, no shit, there I was, and we walked into that clinic. He was busy healing a kid, and we had a change to observe him before he knew we were there. He was tall, as humans tend to be, blond (but I think you got that already) and I guess rather ruggedly handsome, if you go for the scruffy, feather-pauldroned apostate type. I am no good judge of handsomeness, after all. The girls' eyes did widen a bit at his sight, though, so he must have made an impression.

Oh, who am I kidding? Sunshine was practically drooling in that shy, prim way of hers. And Hawke...well, I am a keen observer of people, and when she tilted her head to the side and smiled at him, I got a tingle down my spine.

Scary lass, that Marian Hawke, I've said it before and I will say it again. When she focused on something, anything, she was like a mabari bitch with a bone.

Woof. I could practically hear it.

But just when I was prepared to lie back and she if that girl could flirt or not, the damned healer threw me a curve ball.

Blue light started seeping out of his skin, his eyes started shining like a beacon –neat trick, let me tell you- and black smoke billowed out around him. He dropped to a battle stance and his voice boomed.

"I have turned this place into a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?

So, okay, a bit of a drama queen. Sheeez. Who threatened you, you big dummy?

"I am just here to talk," I heard Hawke say and then I explained we were there for the maps. And pretty please, kind Ser Apostate with the creepy glowing eyes, can you help us?

"Did the Wardens send you to get me back?" he asked. "I'm not going back. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-Lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Oookayy. Step back everybody. Baby steps now, and make no sudden noises.

"You...had a cat?" Hawke was understandably confused. "In...the Deep Roads?"

I heard his rambling about his cat with mounting amusement. Blondie was fun. A few bats flying around there in his belfry, but who am I to pass judgement? So, okay he was a little crazy, but fun. I like weird people like that. They make life...more interesting, lent it a bit of colour, even if that colour is ex-grey with a tiny smidgen of blue. And judging by Hawke's reaction to him, she was of the same opinion.

We walked out of there with his promise to give us the maps if we helped rescue a friend of his, a mage, from the templars.

Clandestine rescue mission in the heart of the Chantry.

Oh, what joy!


	3. Meeting the suspects: Anders II

So, let me say this first off, before I tell you what happened that night at the Chantry.

NUG. SHIT. Big flying chunks of it.

Ewww, but I needed that.

Okay, now that I have that out of my system, on with my narration.

We arrived at the Chantry alright, everything fine and dandy, and found Blondie waiting for us. Sunshine was understandably edgy, but Hawke was as she always was, cool and collected as always, twin daggers at the ready, and boy, did she know how to work those babies.

She is one scary lass, have I mentioned that before? I have, heh? Well I won't tire of saying it again and again, trust me. No, no, don't get me wrong, no puppy eyes from this here dwarf, Bianca wouldn't have it. But Hawke...she was amazing. I might be devoted to my Bianca, but if that girl was dwarven...ahem. I digress, once again.

Settle down, Bianca. I am forever true.

Where was I? Oh, the Chantry.

Just a minute, because now that I remember it, I feel the urge coming on again.

Nug shit! Shit, shit, shit! Fuck.

Okay. Bear with me and you'll grasp the irrational urge to curse in just a second.

First off, the whole thing was a trap.

Now I don't know about you, but this here dwarf, does not, I repeat, _does not_ like to be set up. Some people might get a kick out of it, I don't know, I've seen some pretty weird-ass stuff in my time, but ah-ha. not. my. kind. of. thing.

So, there we were, I shit you not, and a whole big bunch of templars steps out, and they hadn't brought tea and biscuits with them, no Ser. Pretty rude of them, I know. My mother told me you never drop in without a present,, especially when you're uninvited, but hey, I expect a lot of things from templars, and manners isn't one of them.

Did I mention Anders' friend was sporting a sun brand on his forehead and had discovered the 'joy' of talking in a drawled monotone? Anders was none too pleased to see his friend a tranquil, let me tell you. In fact, the poor guy was heartbroken. I did get the distinct impression that mage was more than a friend if you get my drift, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Anyways, out come the templars, and Anders goes from feeling blue... to glowing blue. I didn't know who to defend ourselves against.

"You will never take another mage as you took him!" a voice bellowed out and then...carnage. Poor templars. Sure they had meant to kill us but what that...thing, whatever it was, did to them...I shudder to think about it. I mean, yeah, they hadn't brought us anything, flowers any other shit like that, but still.

And here I have to make a side note and say again just how scary a lass Hawke is, because I took a look into her face while that Anders thing wrecked havoc amongst out enemies and I could swear..she was excited. Beats me why. Was it the air of danger, was it the menace, the sheer force in that blue glowing form? I have no idea. But she was hot and bothered, make no mistake. She looked at him as if he was something yummy she couldn't wait to sink her teeth into.

Why? Again, beats me.

The biggest surprise was that that tranquil mage( Carl, Charles, Karl?) actually got back into himself after Anders' little display was done. For just a few seconds, he was back into being himself, and pleaded with Anders to kill him.

Poor Blondie. He did it in the end, poor, poor heartbroken mage.

But when we got back to the clinic and he explained to Hawke the whole I-was-so-incredibly-moronic- and-merged-with-a-spirit thing, she actually turned around and said with a smirk:

"Well, that explains the whole sexy, tortured look."

Huh?

Women. I will never understand them.

But, it seemed Hawke had it bad with our little apostate-ex-Grey-warden-current-healer...Blondie. You get the picture.

For about a week.

Because then, we met Fenris.


	4. Meeting the suspects: Fenris I

**My apologies to all those who have not received a proper reply to their review. I have one thing to say and that is that morning sickness sucks big time.**

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><p>So, no shit, there I was, that dark night we met up with the brooding elf.<p>

Let me tell you from the start, though, Hawke and I had fast become buddies by that time. Joking aside, there was something about this woman that had fascinated me from the start, ever since I had started inquiring about her. Sure she was a looker, all the right curves on all the right places, midnight black hair and sparkling amber eyes-like a cat's. But that wasn't it.

Don't fret Bianca, that wasn't it, honestly.

She was clever, and this here dwarf appreciates cleverness in people, Stone knows how far and few between they are. The Maker must really like fools, he made so many of them, and this here city has a build-in magnet to draw them in, I swear. But Hawke wasn't like that; that girl was _shrewd_. And being the paragon of male shrewdness that I am, I was immediately drawn to her. Before long, I had learnt her story, the desperate flight from Lothering, her brother's loss on the way, and that rather far-fetched story of a dragon-witch-Flemeth-of-legend swooping from the skies to save them.

I like to exaggerate my stories, but jeez, really? A dragon? That morphed into a witch and back again?

I'll believe it when I see it.

So, I was telling you about the night we met the elf. By that time, we had already built enough rapport between us to be bantering happily along the way, laughing and trying to up one on another, which was no easy task, let me tell you.

Sunshine and Aveline were with us, and the job looked easy enough; Anso, a dwarf suffering from what I call surface jitters, had bid us retrieve his illegally withheld illegal goods. Did that make our quest doubly illegal, I wonder, or did two illegalities cancel one another out?

But here I am rambling again. Hah. Merrill must be rubbing off on me.

I'll tell you about her the next time, don't worry.

But before I carry on to tell you about the brouhaha that followed, a few words about Aveline.

That woman unnerves me to the very day. Scary lady. And they say ginger heads are fun. First off, she was smart, too. But that was were all similarities with Hawke ended. Hawke was a flirt, irreverent, laughing in the face of convention. Pair that with a caustic sense of humour and a scathing tongue and you had a killer combination. She loved danger and excitement and right and wrong were at best abstract meanings for her: Hawke did what Hawke thought best. She believed that laws were made to be bent, broken and spat on, unless of course it suited her to obey them.

My kind of girl.

Aveline was law. Aveline was respect and discipline and code of honour. Aveline was a guard. She wasn't the gentle hand of the law, either oh, no. That lady was scary. She tolerated no bullshit, and lucky for Hawke she loved her like a little sister, otherwise her and yours truly would have gotten in serious trouble with Aveline for some of the bullshit we said and did.

That aside, on with my story.

So, no shit, there we were, thinking the job would be easy, nothing Bianca and I wouldn't be able to handle, right?

Wrong.

Have I mentioned how much I don't like being set up? Yep. I have. Guess what? It happened again.

I was talking to Aveline, after the damned box in the house was found to be empty, explaining my theory to her of why they let a Fereldan in the guard, which mainly consisted of "You know, it's possible they're just scared shitless of you." She just gave me one of those stern looks of hers that remind me of my mother (shiver), and we all walked out together, to be greeted by a group of Tevinter slavers.

"That's not the elf!" one of them shouted.

Really? What was your first clue? Do I even look like an elf, you dim-wit?

And so, we got into the fight with gusto, me yelling "how many have you got, Hawke?" and her laughing and twirling and disappearing into the shadows; sweet Bethany roasted a few and Aveline was like the battering ram from hell. Soon the place fell silent.

Well done, my lovely Bianca. You were brilliant that night.

To cut a long story short, we met up with a slaver on the way out of the alienage, who started ranting and raving that we were going to die, and blah, blah, blah. I so wanted to yawn, but you know, it's not polite. If there was one thing my mother did, other than drink and spit like a sailor, that was to drill the importance of good manners into me. Anyway, the slaver called to his men, and then a poor fellow staggered onto the stairs, blood seeping from a gaping wound on his chest.

"Your men are dead," a voice said and a white haired man started descending the stairs.

So, reactions.

First. He was an elf. The pointed ears were a dead give-away. Weirdest looking elf I have ever seen, though: white hair, piercing green eyes and lines of a white thing carved on his skin. It looked like those tattoos the Dalish had, but it wasn't. I soon found out differently.

Second. Hawke. Her eyes shot wide open, she gave him a long, appraising look and bit her lip. I thought oh-oh. Trouble. Run, elf, run. Get away. She'll gobble you up, can't you see her drooling?

Third. He continued speaking, and well. I promised to be honest, as honest as I can be, so I will spit it out, and if any of you ever mentions this to me again, I will deny all knowledge.

Damn, that elf had a killer voice!

And then he went and gave us all the absolute, freaking hibbie jibbies. I mean seriously. Made my skin crawl.

What did he do? Those strange lines on his body lit up and he plunged his fist –yes, his fist, you heard me- through that man's chest. Pulled out his heart and threw to the ground, I shit you not.

"You have a talent for attracting weirdoes, Hawke," I muttered to her, but she didn't even hear me.

Oh, Hawke was a goner. I silently lamented the loss of my buddy as she descended into that pit of vipers called 'love at first sight'.

The elf continued speaking, pleaded with us to help eliminate his former master – yes, he was an escaped slave, oh goodie!- and Hawke, I knew it would agree to help him kill the Archon himself; she was _that_ intrigued.

I sighed to myself, exchanged a rueful look with Sunshine and trekked behind her.

One blue-glowing weirdo had made us kill a bunch of templars and this one wanted us to kill a magister.

"Hawke, can the next man we meet _not_ glow blue, please?" I asked her and she laughed. "Pretty please? I'll put you on my tab."

"How is green?" she answered and we made our way to Hightown.

Well, Bianca, no rest for the wicked.

I shot a look to Aveline, for once hoping the guard would object to us breaking into a Hightown mansion, but she just shrugged.

Well. Nug shit.

I followed her, as I always did. After all, Hawke was clever. She knew what she was doing, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, when it came to romance, that girl was a few bricks shy of a brick load.

Ah, bronto crap.


	5. Meeting the suspects: Fenris II

We arrived at a rather poorly kept mansion in Hightown to find that weird-ass looking elf waiting for us, me, Aveline, Bethany and Hawke. After spending a few minutes to formulate a plan, we broke in, and the damned elf started bellowing out "Danarius! I know you're in there, come out you coward!"

So much for subtlety.

Shades, and corpses and demons and same-old-tune, what else was new. Getting on our bad side seemed to be rather...unhealthy.

We slowly made our way to the main bedroom in the house, no trouble there, especially with the addition of the elf. That scrawny little pointy eared bastard had a sword as tall as he was, and he swung it around as if it was a fly squatter. I was impressed. When I had first seen his sword I had thought 'overcompensating for something' with a sideway little smirk. Honestly. It seemed like the kind of weapon you hoist on your back to say 'look how big and scary my sword is, don't look at my pecker, you won't find it anyway.' But no, that elf could actually _use _ that thing, and use it well. His sword, I mean, not his pecker. Ewww. Unwanted visual.

After we found the master bedroom where his master was supposed to be in (master in a master bedroom, get it?) to be empty, he got a rather disappointed expression – I swear his ears drooped a bit- and he made a hasty exit, telling us to gather whatever valuables we found.

That was my first indication the elf had no money with which to pay us, by the way. I hate it when we do jobs for free. No, I do not want to be paid in chickens, thank you very much. No, you can keep that old junk, or better yet, go sell it and then pay us in money. My pack does not have unlimited capacity for your knick-knacks, thank you very much.

Barter economy. How uncivilized.

So, where was I? Ah, yes. We gathered what we could find that could fetch a decent price and made our way to the front door. And there that elf was, with a look on his face as if we had just kicked his puppy. No, as if we had just kicked his puppy, stepped on his cat's tail and boiled his favourite canary to make soup.

"It never ends," he started. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hound me down at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul."

Drama queen, anybody?

"And now," he spat as he turned those seething green eyes of his our way, "I find myself in the company of even more mages."

Red alert. Red alert. Run to the hills, women and children first!

You hadn't seen Hawke get angry if you hadn't seen her precious little sister threatened. Bethany was of course taken aback; she was such a sweet young thing, such a loving and tender personality, that this much hate, and especially from someone we had just helped, was like a slap to her face. Poor little Sunshine. Bianca was outraged, let me tell you. She was itching to end the efl's speech with a bolt to the forehead. Especially when he called our Sunshine 'a viper' in our midst.

Hawke of course spoke up in defence of her sister, and the elf was a bit taken aback. "I hope I don't appear ungrateful," he said, "because nothing could be further from the truth"

Well, yeah, pal, you do sound ungrateful. Be careful. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

He then went on to explain what those weird-ass lines on his body were...get this, people: some sicko magister had pimped that poor elf full of lyrium. Those were lyrium lines. Ah-ha. You heard me. Lyrium. Lines. Embedded in his skin. Yep. I shit you not.

I forgave some of his previous ranting at that moment. If a mage had done that to me, I would probably shit a brick every time a mage said hello, that is for sure. And the guy could prove useful...he did have a nice technique with his sword, he did make Hawke's eyes glaze a bit and let's be honest here, that voice was not exactly hard to the ears, was it?

And let's face it, if we are being honest here, his looks were striking. This here dwarf has never felt a single, itsy-bitsy trace of desire towards another man, cross my heart and all, but I am man enough to admit it: the guy was gorgeous. Just the kind of character I needed for that new book I was writing with the...But you've read that already.

My mind had started wandering a bit at that point, thinking about what our other freak show glow boy would say upon meeting Fenris, and what the mage's reaction was going to be to our little lyrium decorated warrior. I was betting on instant dislike, maybe even fireworks. But all bets were off; maybe Justice would get a sniff of the lyrium in the elf and we would have a love sick Fade spirit singing Fenris serenades.

Who really knew with those two weirdoes?

So, I was a bit caught by surprise when Fenris explained that his master was trying to capture him and strip the skin from his bones to get his precious investment back and Hawke replied with a come-hither smile, "Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

The elf chuckled and pretended to hide it behind a small cough, and my eyebrows relocated somewhere to the vicinity of my hairline. Well. That was interesting. She had flirted with Anders and now she was flirting with Fenris. My friend was either keeping all her cards open or a shameless flirt. Or planning a cosy little get-together to see who would glow for her the brightest.

Damn, Hawke! Get your mind off the gutter already!

No big surprise when the elf admitted to having no money to pay us, and offering to do whatever it took to repay what we had just done for him. I swear, the various ways with which he could _repay_ us flashed in Hawke's mind for a second, because she got a look like the fisherman who had just landed a nice, big, fat...fish.

But she eventually asked him to join us in our Deep Roads expedition.

And just like that, our little band of misfits had gained another member.

Oh. The infinite joy.

I just realised I haven't said nug shit once in this chapter...

So, without further ado, all together now: NUG SHIT.

Just to be consistent, you know...


	6. Meeting the suspects: Glowfight!

Before I go on any further, I think you need to know about this: the day Fenris and Anders met.

A brouhaha of epic proportions.

I am afraid there were no serenades, people. But there was a lot of dislike. I mean, heaps of it. Have you ever heard of love at first sight? It must be true, because I witnessed hate at first sight with my very own two eyes.

A good thing Hawke had been there, because the elf had taken one look at Blondie and sneered "another mage," and Blondie had taken one look at the disgusted expression on Fenris' face and had sneered "a mage hater, how original!"

"Now, now, boys," Hawke had crooned to them, and I had nearly laughed out loud at the way the both relaxed at the sound of her voice, "play nicely, now. Or we're leaving the park and you get no cookies."

"Do not patronise me, Hawke," the elf spat a minute later. "You keep dangerous company. I refuse to work with him."

"She is patronising me, not you," Anders protested. "And I refuse to work with such prejudice."

Really? Fighting over who she was patronising? I couldn't stop snickering.

"I will say it once and once only," Hawke sighed. "You work with me, not each other. If any of you wish to desert me," and she gave her best impression of a damsel in distress, eyes wide, lips trembling, the works, "you are free to leave."

Awww. You should see the way they both scrambled to assure her that no, they would not desert her, they were hers to command, and please, Hawke, don't be sad, the mage annoys the heck out me but I will put up with him, for now, and please Hawke, don't give me that heartbreaking pout, I already dislike the living crap out of this elf, but I can ignore him, I can work with him, don't worry.

Not with so many words, of course, but their eyes said it all, trust me.

Of course that changed preeetty damned quickly when Fenris learned Anders was housing a spirit inside him.

"Did I hear correctly?" he spat. "You are an abomination?"

"Well, shout a bit more," Anders scoffed. "The Knight Commander didn't hear you."

"Do you see yourself as harmless, then? An abomination that would hurt no one?"

Honestly, elf, why do you even say that? Abominations are so warm and cuddly after all, all they want to do is offer kids candy and cuddle with kittens and puppies and rainbows...

An obvious talent for stating the blatantly obvious, that elf.

But Anders sure gave as good as he got, which is why every time they addressed each other I just laid back and enjoyed the verbal sparring. And kept notes. Let's not forget that.

"Like reaching into peoples' chests and tearing their hearts out, you mean?" he glared at the elf, who immediately got defensive.

"I did that at the behest of no demon, mage!"

Honestly, who talks like that? At the behest of no demon! Pfttt. A former slave with a scholar's vocabulary. Now that is something you don't see every day.

"So, you admit it takes no demon for somebody to be a cold, vicious killer? Good!" Anders retorted and Hawke had to step in, pout, smile and use that special tone of voice that works with scared puppies and skittish horses.

Silence again for a while before Fenris started talking about Tevinter, and how Anders would make a great little magister and him replying that surely not all mages in Tevinter were all_ that_ bad, to which Fenris started sprouting what I was sure were very inventive curses in Tevene. After all, he did have quite an extensive vocabulary.

Unfortunately, Hawke had by that time slipped into a shop to look at a new backpack –it is amazing how quickly those things gave out on us, but then again we were forced to carry around a inordinate (see? I can use big words too!) amount of junk. Barter economy and all that.

So, Anders started glowing a bit around the edges, and Fenris started glowing too, there in broad daylight, people and chickens running around in panic. I did _so_ want to see who could glow the brightest, but Bianca had other ideas and interrupted the whole thing with a well placed bolt.

"Mommy, mommy," I told Hawke, thinning my voice, when she came out of the shop and looked at the now empty square with a questioning look, "Anders pulled Fenris' pigtails again."

"I thought I told both of you to play nicely," she replied with a cheeky smile. She then looked from one petulant five-year-old to the other and her smile grew wider. "Don't make me spank you."

Can you blame them for fighting even harder after that?


End file.
